


You're An Ocean I Can't Cross

by EllesAlwaysWriting



Series: OT12 Archives [5]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Old Married Couple, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-10-29 04:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20790881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllesAlwaysWriting/pseuds/EllesAlwaysWriting
Summary: Kris and Yixing are an Old Married Couple (except they're not married...and they're not a couple).





	You're An Ocean I Can't Cross

**Author's Note:**

> 5/??? of a miscellaneous collection of oneshots and drabbles I found in the nostalgic depths of my EXO folder. All works were written between July 2013 - August 2015 and featuring all twelve original EXO members in one way or another.
> 
> Originally written in September of 2013, this oneshot was inspired by an anonymous prompt that simply read "friends to lovers in two weeks," and was written for a friend who wanted domestic FanXing with tons of angst. Title taken from "Red Flags" by Kerli.

**It’s 11:47 PM on Wednesday and Kris is just returning home.**

“Sorry I’m late, Xing…”

Yixing peered up from the table, half-eaten noodles falling loosely back onto his plate as he chews lazily. The door had been unlocked all night as he waited. He hadn’t even flinched when the familiar knock sounded, when the familiar voice called out his name. He sighed, still not prepared to face the man dropping his bag by the door and shuffling out of his coat. He had stopped worrying an hour ago, after what felt like forever. It had truly been a long night, as most of his nights are. _Maybe he went out after work, maybe he’s stuck in traffic, maybe he was in the accident that caused the traffic…_ It eventually rounded into _he’s probably with him,_ and finally, _I hope he’s alive so I can kill him myself._

Kris opens his mouth to muster up an excuse, to apologize again, but Yixing’s gaze stuns him into silence. Might as well. Silence was a normality in their house now. A house that used to be filled with so much laughter at all hours of the night that the neighbors would complain to the landlord about them periodically.

Yixing’s tired eyes rack over him as he strides over to the table and stop at the darkening hickey on his collarbone. He blinks a few times. He hopes he’s imagining things. He’s not. “Dinner’s on the stove.” He’s hoarse. He’s been crying.

“I meant to call, I just – ” Silverware clacking harshly on porcelain.

“Whatever.” He was meant to hear that. However hushed it may have sounded, Yixing was still staring him down. A mumbled tone with eye contact just meant _listen closer, asshole._ He rubs a hand harshly over his neck as he stands. “It’s fine, it doesn’t matter.” There’s no emotion in the words, still quiet as they bounce off the walls and hit Kris like a wrecking ball.

He steps forward, hand extended to reassure or comfort or just touch. He thinks Yixing might just let him.

He’s mistaken. “Don’t,” he says, louder, like he’s about to yell, and he swats the hand away. “I said it’s fine.”

As he turns, Kris cringes prematurely in anticipation of Yixing relieving a bit of the visible tension in his shoulders by slamming the door.

_Swooosh…click._

Mistaken again. He forgot that Yixing doesn’t slam doors. He’s forgotten a lot of things about Yixing in the last few months. He forgets that Yixing is almost always home alone since he dropped that evening class. He forgets that Yixing doesn’t stray from routines depending on his mood. He forgets that Yixing will wait for him, all night if he has to. He forgets that Yixing doesn’t like being visibly upset. He forgets that he’s not dealing with a man-child when coming home to Yixing. He forgets that Yixing cares so much.

He lets himself forget a lot when he’s around Luhan.

And it shouldn’t be that easy to forget, considering how significantly more vexatious Luhan is. And agitating. And clingy. And petty. And unpredictable. Luhan is unpredictable, petty, clingy, agitating, and -

Kris’s boyfriend.

And Yixing…isn’t.

It seems simple on paper (Kris will never admit out loud that’s he actually took the time to physically illustrate the differences between his best friend and his boyfriend). Kris wishes his relationships were as simple as the Venn diagram still folded neatly under the keyboard in his office. But facts are still facts. Facts are solid, tangible, comprehensible. His facts were clear:

**Yixing was his best friend**, and has been since they were teenagers. Their paths were destined to separate when they graduated high school, Yixing attending the local art academy and Kris getting accepted to his dream school in America, but the bond was already too set in their bones. Kris decided he could tolerate sucking up to the big wigs at his father’s marketing agency if it meant he could stay close to Yixing’s campus dormitory. It wasn’t that big of a sacrifice, because Kris admired his father a great deal, liked spending time with him, and enjoyed learning the ins & outs of the cutthroat marketing world. Ironing himself out and popping on a 100-watt smile every day was as easy as it was artificial; Kris was good at his job. It was all the more worth it when he got promoted and began making enough to rent a spacious condominium, somewhere he could eventually feel the need to run to at the end of the day. The condo that he could finally get used to calling home when Yixing moved in. They fell into a routine easily, as they always did, always centering their schedules around each other. Since Kris pretty much takes care of the rent and luxuries, Yixing does most of the cooking and cleaning. He pleasantly wipes the artificial office grin from his face every night and replaces it with something more genuine before he even has time to loosen his tie. Yixing goes to school on a full scholarship, so Kris takes over more of the house work and comes home earlier during Yixing’s exams so he has time to study. Yixing’s bedroom became more of a walk-in closet because he’d usually find it more comforting to do his school work sprawled out at the foot of Kris’s bed as he typed away at his desk a few feet away. There was nothing unusual about Kris waking to a steady heartbeat against his back and an arm slung heavy over his waist (Yixing had always been a cuddler). They were blatantly attached at the hip, excluding work and school, but even their classmates and coworkers were aware of their close proximity. On weekends Kris would go up to the campus and play basketball with a couple of his former teammates, but he honestly spent more time in the performing arts building, watching Yixing practice for hours in the studio. Yixing was a talented dancer of all mediums, a wonderful singer, and Kris figured he would probably be the most hated guy in the department if he wasn’t so polite and humble. Yixing made the same inference, minus the “humble” characterization, when he would visit Kris’s building to bring him lunch or keep him company on nights he’d stay to finish extra work for his father. Yixing was a stress reliever of sorts for stuffy, corporate Kris, his optimistic and relaxed demeanor shining, even when getting scolded by passing suits and janitors as he danced atop the freshly waxed floors with his headphones blaring. Their friends often joke about how they function more like a married couple than roommates, which _was_ funny until Luhan came into the picture. Then it just became a really accurate and awkward truth…

Facts aren’t meant to be funny, anyway.

**Luhan is his boyfriend**, and the complete debacle of Kris’s professionalism came trailing behind him like a giant parade balloon. Luhan was one of the many interns working under him, a know-it-all obsessive ass kisser, and Kris saw him coming a mile away. The phrase “looks can be deceiving” had to have been coined by the first person to be swindled by those big, precious eyes and smug little smirk Luhan wore so well. Kris wasn’t intimidated nor surprised by just how conniving Luhan was behind closed doors. It is always the cute ones, after all. What did surprise him was how much easier it was to smile honestly with Luhan bouncing through the halls, giddy and compliant, spitting venom in his competition’s faces with the sweetest smile he had ever seen. Kris found his job to be quite a bore, and Luhan definitely made things interesting. Ya’know, when he wasn’t sitting at Kris’s feet like an obedient puppy, balancing treats on his nose and waiting for a command. The reality of having a dozen little worker bees at his mercy was already feeding his ego, and Luhan wasn’t bashful about his approval of Kris abusing his power over him. He knew it was an act, that Luhan was just an eager underling trying to secure his place in the company with a little positive referencing from the VP, so he admittedly took advantage. Serves him right, considering all the backhanded compliments and shady glances Luhan dishes out on a daily basis. Kris kept their indiscretions private for the most part but after a few weeks, it was clear that his coworkers knew he was playing favorites. That, and Luhan could never really keep his mouth shut about how easily he had the CEO’s baby boy wrapped around his pinky finger. When the interns dispersed at the end of the month, Luhan was promoted, but Kris’s father assigned him to a different building. It was for the best, he knew, but he barely had time to miss the mischievous little runt before he was spending all of his free time spread over Kris’s desk again (Luhan was quick to remind him that they _technically_ didn’t work together anymore, so it was no longer taboo for them to have sex in his office).

Yixing noticed the changes quicker than Kris. They started off small, and Kris always paid more attention to the big picture. Yixing would call to ask what Kris wanted for lunch and be informed that he was out already. Kris would start coming home later and later, eventually missing dinner completely and leaving Yixing a worried lump in his own bed. Yixing wouldn’t see Kris sitting against the mirror as he practiced or on the court as he left campus. In fact; Kris’s friends began asking _him_ where his “husband” was. It comforted him a little to know Kris was blowing them off just as much, because he was constantly asking himself if he had done something wrong. The first time Yixing meet Luhan, he was crashing into the back of their front door as Kris sucked him into a possessive, drunken kiss. Yixing stayed motionless on the couch as they stumbled across the dimly lit living room and miraculously reached Kris’s bedroom door without injury. Kris muffled Luhan’s hysterical laughter with his hand and half-whispered something about them having to be quiet before slamming the door behind them. Turns out Luhan’s laugh was just as loud and obnoxious as his moans.

Yixing didn’t exactly dislike Luhan. He thought he was a nice enough guy (when sober) and Kris seemed a lot happier with him around. But that was just it – Kris was happier with him around. Yixing had apparently fooled himself into thinking he made Kris happy, the main reason being that Kris told him so. They’d been friends for so long, yet Yixing had only seen Kris smile as brightly as he does around Luhan a few times. It made his stomach churn in ways he couldn’t understand. Of course, Kris smiles differently at his boyfriend; if Kris smiled at Yixing like that it would be weird…wouldn’t it? Yixing can’t make heads or tails of how they even _work._ Luhan is constantly pushing for attention, and Kris’s always hated needy people. Luhan’s a flirt, and Kris’s always been quite possessive of his partners. Luhan often jokes about his past affairs all being with rich businessmen or their sons, and Kris acts as if that’s not a huge red flag. Luhan carries himself with this smug sense of entitlement hidden under a sugary smile and pleasing voice…okay, he can see why they’re compatible in that department. At least Luhan has the decency to withhold his self-proclaimed superiority from others. From what Yixing’s seen and overheard, they’re _definitely_ sexually compatible. But Yixing only needs one hand to count the things he actually likes about Luhan, while he can talk for hours about the things he can’t stand about him. Which he does. All day. To anyone who will listen, and to the dismay of any bystanders.

“God, would you shut up for like, two seconds?” Jongdae sighs out, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You sound like a scorned lover.”

Yixing scoffs, biting down on the straw sticking out of the plastic cup in his hand, swallowing more unkind words with bits of blueberries and ice.

**It’s 2:14 PM on Thursday, and Yixing is killing time before his Lecture class at the student café.**

“He _is_ a scorned lover! His husband’s having an affair,” Sehun adds, picking an abnormally large chunk of strawberry out of his smoothie.

“Shut up, you guys.” Baekhyun is a Godsend. “I’m happy Yixing can tell us so much about his marital issues. Now, have you tried getting more creative in the bedroom?” Sometimes. Baekhyun is a Godsend _sometimes_. Other times he’s just as bad as the rest of his friends.

Jongdae had a valid point, though. What right did Yixing have to judge Kris’s taste in men? Why did he have so much malice towards Luhan? It’s not like he was the first “significant other” to interfere with their friendship. He can clearly recall those few weeks his nearly-narcoleptic classmate Jongin crashed on their couch; Kris had permanent bitchface that entire month. That was completely different, though, because Jongin wasn’t exactly Yixing’s boyfriend, more a friend-with-benefits, and he needed somewhere to stay after getting kicked out of his dorm. Luhan doesn’t live with them, despite how much time he spends in their condo, and he definitely wasn’t as much trouble as Jongin was. Yixing wonders if Kris ranted about the whole fiasco the way he’s doing now. Probably not, he decided, because Kris is too fond of acting like a blank slate when it came to expressing emotions. That used to be something he’d empty out to Yixing, but now he’d rather hog the house phone for three hours, talking to Luhan.

“Sounds like a Honeymoon phase to me,” Kyungsoo says suddenly, speaking up for the first time. “Kris will fuck it up soon, somehow, like he always does.” The others nod in agreement, all sharing a short laugh, but Yixing feels like he’s the only guilty party afterward.

Kris does not take failure lightly. It’s a paternal trait, he assumed, because Kris’s father was always so hard on him when they were younger. Even now, they both still have that “if you’re not first, you’re last” mentality. Yixing’s tried to ease it, support his friend regardless of his failures and it’s appeared to have taken some effect over the years. That progress doesn’t seem to apply to relationships, though, because even when Kris is the one to end things, he still mopes for at least two weeks. He’s the only one whose seen how hard Kris takes it when he’s forced to push people away. He’s the only one around when Kris slumps into bed after working long nights and without eating. He’s the one who Kris melds into when he done pretending he’s not wiping away tears and fighting to keep himself together. Kris cries to him, and only him, and asks why he can’t be good enough, be a better person for just this once, over & over until he falls asleep against Yixing’s chest. Yixing’s the only person whose ever seen how broken Kris really is.

And here he was, wishing the only positive relationship Kris’s had in the last five years all to Hell and having a good laugh about it. Some best friend he was.

**It’s 5:32 PM on Friday, and Kris really wants to scream.**

He’s surprised, confused, infuriated – God, he just wants to strangle someone.

Luhan.

He wants to strangle Luhan.

It’d be a civic duty to put that bastard out of his misery, to be honest. No jury in their right minds would convict him. It’s not like anyone but his parents would miss him, and he probably treats them like two-legged cash cows, too. Well, maybe not his mother; he was an absolute momma’s boy. That’s beside the point. The point was Kris is mad and really, really needed someone to take it out on. He bangs his head on the steering wheel as bends over to sigh into his hands. He’s still sitting in his car outside Luhan’s apartment, as he had been for the last twenty minutes. The asshole hadn’t even bothered to come chasing after Kris like a decent human being. It’s Kris’s fault, really. How could he forget Luhan _wasn’t_ a decent human being? How could he forget that this was just supposed to be an impulsive office affair? How could he forget how to guard himself against this kind of thing? He should have pulled away months ago when things began to get serious. He should have pulled away the first time Luhan yanked him along the busy street and called him “boyfriend.” He should have pulled away before he got attached like he usually does, before Luhan had the chance to hurt him.

A tap at the window sucks the moisture back into his tear ducts.

“Kris…” whines the aforementioned asshole outside his car, pleading voice muffled by glass. His newly blood orange mushroom of hair was smoothed down now along with his wrinkled clothes, apologetic eyes peeking out from the edge of his fringe. _What a pretentious color, blood orange_…it fit him perfectly, of course. “Baby, let me in.”

“Don’t call me that,” Kris snaps. If the car was on he could have rolled right over his feet. Why was he even still sitting there?

Luhan tries again. “Kris, please let me in? We need to talk about this…”

Kris scoffed, turning away from the dusty image of the seemingly perfect boy outside his window. When he looked again, he half expected him to be gone, but Luhan is annoyingly persistent. He _looks_ sad enough, but Luhan is an award-winning actor. He looked like he was in love with Kris for ten months.

His forearm is against the glass as he presses his face closer, parting his pouty pink lips to mouth the word again. _Please_…he looks like a cold, lonely kitten. Kris’s never given much thought to stomping kittens before he met Luhan, let alone cold and lonely ones. Luhan was far from cold or lonely, though. He barely registered the click of the doors unlocking.

As Luhan walks somberly around the front of his car, Kris gives serious thought to running him over. He gets into the passenger seat, face still painted blue until he reaches over to cup Kris’s hand.

Kris flinches away, connecting his back to the driver side door in an attempt to get as far away as possible. “Don’t touch me, okay? You said we need to talk, so talk.”

Luhan chews on his cheek and looks around like he’s asking a passing bird to give him the best approach. Kris is having déjà vu. What Luhan is really doing is looking for witnesses because God forbid there be any spectators when his mask comes off. Pretty, perfect Prince Luhan can’t let the commoners see what a heartless little snake he is. When he looks back in Kris’s direction, his face is drained, pale and white, his mouth hanging open in a tiny O. He’s either about to lie or be brutally honest, neither of which Kris feels ready to hear. The desire to choke him comes back full-force when he finally says, “you never said you wanted to be exclusive…”

_Strangle him. Strangle him now._ “What?!” He didn’t mean to yell, but it came out as too much of a shriek to take it back. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?! We’ve been together for almost a year!”

Luhan’s face scrunches in confusion. “We’ve been _fucking_ for almost a year,” he corrects, smoothing down hairs that weren’t out of place.

Kris felt his face heating, catching a glimpse of his furrowed brow in the rearview mirror. “Are you serious? Is that all our relationship has been to you? We’ve been doing a lot more than that! We go out all the time, we met each other’s families, w-we - ” Kris’s glad Luhan interrupts him because he’s actually more angry about how pathetic he sounds.

“I work for your dad,” he deadpans. “Of course I’ve met your family.”

“You practically live at my house!” Still yelling. _Calm down, Kris, calm down…_

“No, I live here!” he motions out the windshield and Kris really, really wants to throw him through it. “Look, I never knew you wanted to be, like, _together_ like that! How was I supposed to know? We never even talked about it!”

“Well, you hiding the fact you were fucking your roommate this whole time speaks volumes, you fucking asshole!!”

Luhan stares back for a few seconds, Kris’s words vibrating off the walls of the car. His eyes suddenly crinkled as he snaps into a fit of hysterical laughter. He looks at Kris like he should be in on the joke.

“What the fuck is so funny?” His voice had finally calmed down. Calm before the storm, he assumes. Luhan wipes a fake tear from his eye and blinks a few times after recognizing Kris’s serious tone. “Gonna tell me why you and your little puppy dog roommate getting caught playing fetch is a fucking riot now?”

“Don’t act like I’m the only one with a little chew toy!" Luhan scoffs, probably annoyed that they're speaking in animal metaphors. "What about Yixing?”

_Yixing…? Holy fuck, what?_ “W-what about him?!”

“Oh, honey, come oooon!” Luhan rolled his eyes, throwing his arms up and hitting the roof of the car. “Are you seriously expecting me to believe you’re not screwing that guy? Are you aware of who you’re talking to?!” Luhan stopped, pressing his hands to chest and breathing out deeply. Fucking drama queen. Luhan screams all the time, makes scenes in public and always pretends to compose himself before going at it again. There’s not a damn thing composed about Luhan. He knew Luhan was a lunatic, but what he was accusing him of was downright ridiculous…wasn’t it?

“I’m obviously talking to a fucking sociopath! I’m not having sex with Yixing! He’s my best friend!”

“Oh, yeah? Well, what a coincidence! Chanyeol’s my best friend, too!” Luhan replies with false felicity. He’s made himself comfortable now, as if they weren’t still arguing, slumping against the passenger seat down and flipping open the glove compartment. He fishes out a lighter he had stashed there and before Kris can process it, Luhan’s got a cigarette hanging out of his smirking mouth. Kris’s brand. “You know, we should spouse swap, have a playdate or something. Your housewife could stand to get out once in a while -“

Kris snatches the lighter right out of Luhan’s dainty fingers just as it sparks. “Shut up! Don’t talk about him like that.”

Luhan chuckled, trying to snatch the lighter back. “It’s was just a joke, baby.”

“I said don’t fucking call me that!” The cigarette jabs him in the cheek as Luhan tries to reach for the lighter again and Kris yanks it from his teeth before crumbling it in his fist. Luhan takes a half a second to look offended, then lifts himself up on the armrest between them and sucks Kris’s bottom lip into his mouth. Stunned, he stares back, lowered eyes looking back at him and Kris feels the bile rising in his stomach. Leave it to Luhan to be turned on by people being completely livid at him.

“Kris, you’re being so ridiculous,” he says sweetly, threading a hand into his hair, “just relax, it’s not really that big of a deal…”

Luhan moves forward to kiss him and he doesn’t move back. He thinks about how hard he would have to bite down on invading muscle slithering into his mouth to draw blood. He abandons the thought, remembering biting turns Luhan on even more than anger. He does, however, fulfill the desire to wrap a hand around his throat. Only to push him back into his seat, but he admittedly holds him a bit longer just to hear his breathing hitch in surprise. Luhan’s smirk transfers to Kris as he settles back into the driver’s side. Luhan jumps at the start of the engine and the unlocking of the doors. “Get the fuck out of my car.”

Luhan sits, confused and pretty with that stupid O formed by his lips. He searches for any relaxation in Kris’s tense frame, any sign of chaff in his face, and finds none. He pouts childishly, to which Kris responds by reaching over and pushing the passenger side door open.

“Out!”

His face drops, defeat clearly washing over his expression, but he wipes it off quickly as the fresh air hits his face. He smiles again, pushing the door open completely and exiting ceremoniously before bending down murmuring “I hope you weren’t thinking this was the first time I’ve kissed you after I blew Chanyeol, _baby_,” and slamming the car door.

_No jury would convict you. Run his effeminate ass the fuck over…_

He ignores his conscious and reverses instead. He hits every red light on the way home and wipes his mouth every time he brakes.

Yixing’s in the kitchen when he comes in, stereo blaring and faucet on full blast. Kris closes the door quietly, though he’s sure it probably wouldn’t have disturbed him. He lightly drops his bag on the floor and leans against the arch of the dining room doorway, watching Yixing at the sink as he washed vegetables. He’s humming along to the music, a Bruno Mars song he can’t quite name, and skating along the porcelain floor in tall, athletic socks. Kris’s socks. He’s getting déjà vu again, except there’s no violent undertone to it like before.

The first time Yixing cooked was for Kris’s birthday, after they spent all morning arguing about whether or not to have a party. He already knew they’d make a big of a fuss at work and even though Kris was a bit of a club hopper, he just didn’t want the stress of cleaning up after their friends. When he came home, Yixing was skating around the kitchen in his socks, covered in flour and singing SNSD songs. They spent the evening baking mini pizzas, and making a complete mess of the kitchen. It took all night to clean up, but it was worth it to learn that Yixing was a much better cook than him. He’s done all the cooking since then.

Yixing jumps as he catches Kris standing in the doorway. “Oh!” Kris raises his eyebrows and grins. “You’re home early.” Yixing transfers the freshly cleaned cabbage into a colander on the counter and wipes his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah…” Kris’s gaze travels down to the wok of marinating pork, noodles, and various plates of chopped ingredients placed on table and he smiles. He hadn’t been home early enough to see Yixing preparing their meal for a while. “What’s for dinner?” he asks, bending down to pick up a cucumber stick.

“Zhajiangmian,” Yixing says from the living room after he turns the volume down on the stereo. He snatches the cucumber from Kris’s fingers before he can bite it when he returns and tuts parentally. “No snacking, you’re gonna spoil it!”

“Alright, geez,” Kris pouts, “sorry, Mom.”

“Oh, ha-ha. Anyway, I figured we’d have something different since I made beef last time.”

“Sounds good to me,” he replies, sneaking another cucumber slick when Yixing turns to begin cutting the cabbage. ‘Last time’ stands out in his sentence. _Last time what?_ He glances into the dining room and sees three places set on the table. Wait…why were there three -

Oh. That’s right. He had completely forgotten why he had gone to Luhan’s in the first place. Yixing had asked him at breakfast to invite him over for dinner tonight.

_“Any special reason why?”_ he had asked. Kris may not be completely aware of Yixing’s discontent, but it wasn’t that hard to conclude that Luhan wasn’t his favorite person.

_“No. I mean, kinda…not really…I don’t know. He seemed to really like my cooking last time…I just thought it would be nice…”_

“Are you okay?” Yixing asks, suddenly beside him.

“Yeah, yeah…I’m fine.” He hurriedly goes into the dining room to retrieve the constructions of the extra setting and puts the plate back in the cupboard. Yixing is frowning when he turns to return the silverware to its drawer.

“Did he say no?” Kris thanks the Heavens that he didn’t say his name.

The lie came easier than expected, considering how hard his heart is pounding. “No, he’s just busy tonight.”

Yixing perks up instantly, but he lets the smile fall quickly. _Too rude, be nicer._ “Oh, okay…I guess it’s just us, then.”

A little of the pressure is lifted off his chest as the words bounce around his head. It hasn’t been that long since they’ve had dinner together, but it felt like ages since it was just the two of them and Kris’s mind wasn’t on something else entirely…

“Kris?”

“Huh? Yeah?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Yixing’s eyes are full of concern as he touches his shoulder. He smiles & nods, and Yixing smiles back before stroking softly down his arm and letting his hand settle on Kris’s wrist. He still looks unconvinced, so Kris takes his hand and swings it back and forth a few times between them.

“I’m fine,” he says again, and the smile is a little easier to form this time. Their hands stay cupped together for a few more seconds, neither of them quite sure of how long is too long to be standing like that in the middle of the kitchen.

Yixing moves away first, stroking up Kris’s forearm again before turning towards the table. “I’ll call you when everything’s ready, okay?”

Kris nods quickly, but then mentally slaps himself because _dumbass, he can’t see you with his back turned._ “Alright, I’ll be my room.” He lingers in the door a bit, catching when Yixing glances up at him in his peripheral. It’s quick, but he recognizes the pink tint over his cheeks and – was he blushing?

Yixing sputters a bit, like he wasn’t expecting to get caught watching Kris leave the room, and goes back to the sink so that his back is turned once more.

Kris doesn’t realize he’s blushing too until he gets behind his bedroom door.

It’s an hour later, and Kris wasn’t expecting himself to be this hungry. With the stress of what went on earlier, dinner doesn’t come soon enough. He finds himself lingering in the hall after his shower, glancing as nonchalantly into the dining room as he can. From this angle, he can see Yixing fussing with the table settings, rearranging the dishes, and biting his nails as he looks it over once before doing it again. He wonders if he always does this, perfects everything down to the placement of the garnish, and he’s lost in thought when Yixing becomes aware of his presence and leaps for the second time today.

“Jesus!” he shrieks, clutching at the napkin he was about to reposition. “Would you stop sneaking up on me?”

He can’t help but laugh at how genuinely stunned he was. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Man, you are so jumpy today, what’s up?”

“Nothing! It’s…it’s just I’m not used t-to you…being home right now and…”

Yixing visibly tenses up when he steps closer, and the sudden rush of cooler air reminds him that he’s in nothing but a towel. But why would that make Yixing –

“Dinner’s ready, so you should…go get dressed or something…”

After that awkward exchange, Kris expects them to eat in a silence initiated by his solemn demeanor, per usual. They usually ate in silence after breakups. Nothing about tonight was usual. Kris was in a constant state of déjà vu – Yixing was smiling, laughing, looking a lot happier than he’s seen in the last months, and he can’t help but feel guilty for ever bringing such toxicity into their home. It wasn’t just Luhan, either; almost every romantic relationship he’d been in the past few years had been toxic. Yixing was his only positive relationship…he had never been anything less than a shining example of everything he wanted to be. Everything he couldn’t be. Everything he wanted…period.

Yixing feels like he’s talking too much, he had been holding in a lot more than he realized. He told Kris about the songs he and Kyungsoo had written, Tao’s improving linguistics despite him claiming he never studies ("I think it might have something to do with the new English teacher, Kim Junmyeon, haha”), his new baby-faced hip hop instructor, Minseok…he even talked about how Jongin earned back his scholarship after the dorm room accident that landed him on their couch in the first place.

“Did they ever find out what started the fire?” Kris asked as he stuffed the last of his fried pork into his mouth. It was cold now because they had spent more time talking than eating, but still just as good. Another flood of guilt pooled in his brain as Yixing continued his story. He’d completely misjudged Jongin as a careless vandal when he was really just too good of a friend. He made a mental note to apologize to him the next time they saw each other. And to all of his friends, really. It was incredible how much he had missed in the last few months…time moves a lot slower on Cloud Nine.

“…anyway, when they found out Jongin was covering for Sehun they got evicted permanently and he moved off-campus with his girlfriend Yura.”

“What about Sehun?”

Yixing giggles sheepishly. “He’s hiding out in Tao’s room for now…apparently they’ve, uh, _gotten to know each other…_”

There are a few seconds of silence before Kris’s eyes widen. “Ohhh.”

“Yeahhhh,” Yixing nods, “it’s actually a pretty good loophole, considering Tao lives in Edison House now. Technically, they’re not breaking any rules…kind of.” Yixing shrugs and grips at the last of his cabbage with his chopsticks.

Kris doesn’t realize he’s staring at him until their eyes meet. Yixing blushes almost instantly, cabbage jutting out from his lips and Kris drops his chin to his chest to laugh.

“What? Is there something on my face?” Yixing mumbles, finally sucking the rest of the cabbage into his mouth and wiping his face with his napkin.

“No, no, you’re fine, it’s just…” Kris’s head is still down but he peaks up through his lashes to see Yixing still wiping his face obsessively and chokes back another chuckle. “I missed this…us, hanging out, I mean.” Yixing freezes for a minute and blinks a few times when Kris picks his head back up. “I know I’ve been kind of distant lately…”

Blink, blink, blink.

“…and I’m sorry…I really missed you.” He almost whispers the last word, not sure how it should sound. He figured it didn’t come out just quite right because Yixing is still staring at him from across the table, slack jawed with the napkin close to his face.

“But…I haven’t _gone_ anywhere…” Blink, blink.

He raises an eyebrow challengingly, and laughs so obnoxiously loud when he realizes he was being serious that it makes Yixing crack a smile as well.

“What?!”

“That’s not what I meant, dumbass! I know you haven’t gone anywhere!” Kris’s still laughing, even more egged on by Yixing’s face turning red as he chuckles along with him. “I meant I missed being around you, dude,” he finally says after catching his breath.

“Oh…” Yixing’s face flattens before he momentarily drops his eyes down to his empty bowl. “I missed you, too, then…”

Kris can feel the words on the tip of his tongue, the overwhelming need to reprise _I’m sorry,_ but when Yixing looks back up at him, grinning happily, its replaced with a need to poke at the dimple on Yixing’s right cheek.

“Hey! Cut it out!”

**It’s 2:03 AM on Saturday, and Kris’s bed smells too much like Luhan.**

He gags a bit when he rolls onto the other side of the bed and his nose lands in a cloud of familiar cologne. His room is so frustrating it makes his chest aches, but still, he’s felt worse. Much worse. It doesn’t make sense, how unbelievable apathetic he feels about being cheated on. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit he had his suspicions, but for the most part it was all a surprise to him. The pain in his chest didn’t possess that searing twinge of heartbreak he was so acquainted with, though. Rather, it was warm…comforting, even. Kris wasn’t exactly bothered by the new feeling, he just wanted it to go away soon so he could get some sleep. After another half hour of tossing, turning, and staring into the abyss of his ceiling, he finally gave up. He kicks a pair of Luhan’s jeans into the corner on his way to the living room.

It’s noisier out here with the hum of the dryer jumbling and the random sounds of the city outside the balcony doors, but it’s a lot better than his room. He situates himself on the sofa and when he reaches for the remote on the side table he accidentally knocks over a picture frame. It falls face down on the table with an under-dramatic _ting_, completely insulting the way Kris nearly jumped out of his skin. He stands it back up, finding the glowing buttons of the remote under it. Something claws at Kris’s mind for no reason, begs him to look at the side table again, but he ignores it. The nature program about African Cats paints the room in dull yellows and oranges that should catch his attention, but they only remind him of his room and increase the urge to glance to his right at the side table, so he finally indulges on the annoying curiosity.

The picture in the small black frame is only a little over a year old, but it might as well be ten years old, considering how much has changed. He’s on the basketball court he swears he hasn’t seen in ages, carrying Yixing over his shoulder despite his giggling protests. He can practically hear Jongdae’s hysterical hyena laugh as he spots him blurry & doubled over in the background.

The stabbing pain in his chest is back, but too warm and soothing to hurt.

He falls asleep staring at the tiny frame in his hands.

**It’s 11:23 AM on Sunday, and Yixing is close to being almost completely done with Kris.**

He’s got homework sitting abandoned on his desk and a million errands to run, but how could he possibly continue focusing on himself when Kris needed him? He was obviously upset or sick or _something_ because he never came into Yixing’s room. Lingered and shouted in the doorway, maybe, but he never entered unless it was important. Yet there he was, gummy smile and all, sitting against the right side of Yixing’s headboard and watching him rehearse songs on his guitar. And he had been there almost all weekend, spending all day practically following Yixing around and sleeping in the living room. It reminds him of the summer they repainted their rooms and Kris’s reeked so heavily of primer that he had to sleep in Yixing’s room for two weeks. Even when he had come to watch him practice at the academy, he at least had his face stuck in his laptop or his phone, but not today. His phone would buzz and blink every five minutes and he’d just tap it once, then turn his attention back to Yixing, sitting cross-legged against the headboard beside him.

“Don’t you have anything more interesting to do right now?” he asked after they ‘accidentally’ met eyes again.

“This is interesting,” Kris says, shifting to face him, “you’ve messed up that same chord like five times in a row,” he finishes with a smirk.

“Shut up, asshole.”

“Hahahaha. If you want me to leave I will – ”

“No! Just…just stop staring at me, okay? It’s distracting.”

Kris begs the heat on his cheeks to die down. “I wasn’t staring at you!”

“Were too!”

“Was not.”

“Ugh, you’re so immature.”

“I know you are but what am I?”

“A creep, now stop staring before I kick you out of my ro – ” The words get caught in his throat when he hears A Pink’s _NoNoNo_ sounding off in the middle of them.

Kris reacts as if he’s been shot, growing pale and staring down at the screen like it's a ghost. He peers up at Yixing, who looks a bit displeased, but mostly confused. He slides his fingers under the phone and swipes his thumb to the right, then immediately drops it.

_NoNoNo_ is Luhan’s ringtone.

“Why did you hang up the – ”

“Don’t worry about it” is offered instantly.

“…did you two have a fight or something?”

“I said don’t worry about it, alright?” Kris says sternly, but it doesn’t scare Yixing into silence.

“Come on, don’t be so dismissive. I know something is wrong, especially with how weird you’ve been acting.”

“I told you I was fine! Let it go, dammit,” Kris scoffed.

“Not if you’re using me to avoid something important!”

“What?”

“Look…I know I don’t act like it but I don’t want you to make me & my boring life more of a priority than your boyfriend! I mean, you haven’t answered your phone all weekend, Luhan’s probably worried! You need to talk to him whether it’s important or not.”

Three things happen faster than Yixing can comprehend them.

A face is hauled into his line of sight completely, a strong grimace and flared nostrils prominent and intimidating.

There’s a voice ringing in his ears, shouting about how Luhan isn’t more important than him and _never_ will be. That Yixing is the most important person to him and that he’ll never make him feel like he’s unimportant again.

There are lips are pressing against his. Shaky, desperate, really really soft lips that he may or may not have imagined exactly where they were a few times.

The sound of Yixing’s guitar sliding off his lap and crashing to the floor shocked them apart. Yixing squealed, peering over the bed and accessing the damage. Nothing looked broken, so he leans back up to look at Kris, who had backed up to the opposite edge of the mattress. He’s staring down at his hands, as if he can’t fully process the fact that they were just grabbing fistfuls of Yixing’s tank top. Just as Yixing summons enough courage to open his mouth and ask just _what the hell was that,_ Kris heads straight out the door without so much as a glance at the confused lump on the bed that was previously Yixing.

Yixing touches his lip, still burning from the sudden contact, and jumps at the tiny buzz at the base of his thigh.

** _New Message: Luhan_ **

_You did NOT just fucking hang up on me!!!!_

**____________________________________**

**It’s 9:32 PM on Wednesday and Kris has been avoiding talking about the kiss all week.**

He’s also avoiding talking in general, it seems. He did talk to Luhan briefly, and loudly. The phrase he used was in English, but its meaning wasn’t unfamiliar; it sounds too much like ‘vacuum’ when he says it. Other than that, their house is silent once again, but not like before. Yixing constantly entertains the thought that maybe he imagined the whole thing, but the way his body reacts to every quick glance Kris sends his way says different. He seems constantly lost in thought when Yixing does have the pleasure of laying eyes on him, and they both seem to be avoiding that. For three days straight he wakes up and makes breakfast for them, leaving Kris’s plate in the microwave and going back to bed. He waits, listens to Kris stumble about getting ready for work, eating, then standing close enough to Yixing’s half-open door that he casts a shadow on it. He grabbed the knob twice as if he was going to come in, then sighs heavily before deciding not to and shutting off the hallway light. Kris purposely piles on work so he misses dinner, then cleans the dishes apologetically while Yixing pretends to watch television a few feet away on the couch. Even now, when they’re both home and full and bored, Kris seems too spaced out to hold a conversation, so Yixing lets him be.

_“If anyone should talk first, it’s Kris,”_ Jongin said after actually staying awake long enough to hear the whole story, then immediately putting his head down on the table.

_“He probably won’t, though,”_ Baekhyun added, peeking up from his Calculus book. _“I mean, maybe he’s just freaked out about basically assaulting you.”_

The question _it’s not assault if you kinda sort of maybe wanted it, right?_ floats into his mind and he bites the inside of his cheek before he has the chance to blurt it out. God, they’d never let him hear the end of that.

_“Just tell him how you feel,”_ Tao advised quietly, _“maybe he’s just been looking for a way to express how he feels about you. As spontaneous as if may have seemed, that kind of tension doesn’t manifest out of nowhere…some people just need a certain push to let those feelings out…”_

Yixing was raising his head to thank him for the cryptic as fuck advice until he saw Tao was more focused on trading goo-goo eyes with Sehun from across the table.

_“Jesus, get a room! Anyway, you need to resolve this and quick, because I’m already tired of seeing you two sad sacks mopping around.”_ Kyungsoo always had a special way of telling his friends how concerned he was.

_“Yeah, have some more kissy-face time & make up, then we can all go on a group date! Hey, Jongin, doesn’t Yura have a single broth – ”_

_“For the last time, Jongdae, I’m not setting you up with Chanyeol, stop asking!”_

Yixing acts as if he’s going to take Tao’s advice for a while, long enough for him to get home. He kind of loses his footing when he walks into the kitchen and sees freshly made shrimp fried rice in the wok.

Kris only cooks when he feels guilty.

A note would have been nice…Yixing isn’t quite sure what he’s trying to apologize for. _Sorry I’ve been a huge jackass, sorry I’ve been ignoring you, sorry I tried to swallow your face the other day…_ Yixing accepts the apology anyway. He can hear Kris typing away on his laptop from the dining room as he eats, a steady and sterile pace that drives Yixing’s free spirit halfway up the wall. He’s closed Kris’s door before when he wanted to drown out his corporal auditories, but this is the first time it’s been open since Monday and he doesn’t want to aid in the efforts to push himself away.

Kris makes avoiding people and feelings and all that other gross stuff that comes with being human look easy. Yixing had asked him how he does it, and he calmly told him that he doesn’t, he just makes it look like he does. Maybe that’s why Yixing feels like he needs to look over his shoulder every day, to make sure he’s okay, even just a little bit. It’s why Yixing tiptoes around when he’s angry or makes his favorite dishes when he’s stressed. It’s why he used to sneak into his room almost every night and wrap his arms around his chest. Kris thinks it’s because he doesn’t like to sleep alone, just a childish habit he hasn’t completely let go of yet; Yixing thought it was, too. He realized these past few nights when he would pad into the living room to turn off the TV that he mostly did it for Kris. He did it because he needed Kris to know someone actually cared; he’d never realized how truly alone Kris was until they started living together. He started sleeping in Kris’s bed because no one else seemed to stick around long enough to. That’s why he _started_ doing it originally. But now, as it gets harder and harder to fall asleep in his own bed, he realizes he was doing it for himself as well. Not because he needed to, but because he wanted to. Every time he catches the sleeping giant on the couch, mumbling words in the language he spoke the most that day, he can’t help but hope that maybe Kris wanted him to as well.

**It’s 3:09 AM on Friday, and Kris has no idea what the hell he’s doing.**

He doesn’t think Yixing could make it any clearer that he’s trying to avoid him, so he’s kept himself busy with work and cleaning out the last of the Luhan paraphernalia in his room. For someone who wasn’t the least bit serious about their relationship, he sure did leave a lot of his shit in Kris’s house. The annoying little bastard’s rant is still floating around in the back of his head. Was it really that easy for him to assume Yixing was his boyfriend? He remembers introducing him as his roommate. Then again, that’s how he was introduced to Chanyeol, too. He wonders who else thinks they’re more than friends. In a serious way, not as a really outdated joke. The lines of their relationship had been hazed for so long, Kris wasn’t sure if what was normal to them was normal to everyone else.

It probably wasn’t _normal_ for him to be standing outside Yixing’s door in the middle of the night, that’s for sure. He’d been doing this all week, contemplating cornering the other boy so he had no way of ignoring him…either way he phrased it, it didn’t sound normal. Neither is kissing your best friend. Well, it wasn’t normal for most people…

He’d been searching for the courage to push the door open all week. Partly because he doesn’t really trust himself anymore. Was he so desperate for physical contact that he’d throw himself at Yixing? Maybe he always has been. But that wasn’t on his mind right now. Kris doesn’t like saying sorry, even when he knows he should. Apologizing means admitting you’ve failed. The only person he’s ever felt even slightly comfortable apologizing to is Yixing, and that’s only because he’s been around long enough to know how he functions. Yixing never expects more than his bare minimum, and that thought alone makes him feel like apologizing. Yixing deserves better than the minimum. He deserves better than him.

But the prospect of Yixing thinking that same way makes him want to dive onto the land-mine he planted. You can only treat someone like a commodity for so long before they start believing it. The thought of Yixing feeling like he’s any less than the most important person to him finally gives him the strength to push open the door.

It’s a mix of blues, greens, and purples inside Yixing’s room with the moon high and shining through his clear balcony doors. It’s a lot more calming than Kris’s room. His brick red walls mixed with the florescent street lights make him feel like he’s standing on the sun. Yixing’s room is more like an ocean. An ocean he feels he’d be absolutely content drowning in. He can’t really remember what his original plan was once he’s standing at the edge of his bed and staring down at Yixing’s face. The muffled creak of the floorboard under the carpet reminds him how light a sleeper the younger boy is. He stirs, shifts onto his side and when he finally sighs and relaxes back into the mattress, his back is facing him. Kris feels like he doesn’t need any explanation for moving into the warmth left in Yixing’s previous space.

Yixing doesn’t respond to the movement on the other side of his bed. He decides to mirror how Kris first reacted to him climbing into his bed in the middle of the night. He can feel him still as he hovers over him, obviously unsure of his next move. He presses back into Kris’s bare chest and blinks away the sleep in his eyes as they adjust to the dark.

Kris’s staring down worriedly, like he’s afraid Yixing will kick him out once he processes that he’s in his room again. His arm is slightly over Yixing’s waist and he tells himself it’s shaking because Yixing keeps his room penguin accessible.

But it’s warm under the duvet and the sheets and around Yixing’s waist as he feels fingers wrapping around his wrist. He relaxes immediately, and it’s almost too easy to bury his face in Yixing’s neck.

Yixing squirms a bit, exhales tickling just below his ear, and when he settles Kris’s lips are right against his shoulder blade.

“Sorry…”

“It’s okay.”

Yixing’s still not sure what Kris is apologizing for.

He simply accepts the pecks to the back of his neck Kris thinks he’s too tired to feel.

**It’s 11:46 AM on Friday, and Yixing really doesn’t want to get out of bed.**

But he can’t help but feel obligated to at least check the clock on his desk.

“I missed my morning class,” he whispers. Kris scoffs and kisses his earlobe, humming appreciatively when Yixing slumps back into the crook of his arm.

“Well, I’m late as fuck for work,” Kris says sleepily in English.

“Wha…? It’s not a contest, asshole.”

“Whatever,” he mumbles into his hair, this time in Mandarin, but just as drowsily.

Yixing tries to get up again but Kris tightens his grip around his waist and he stays put, sighing softly. “I can’t make breakfast if you don’t let me go,” he chuckles.

Yixing thinks he says something along the lines of ‘_but I don’t want breakfast’ _in English as he buries his face back into his neck. His voice is coarse, but soothing as he continues murmuring into his skin in both languages, still half asleep.

“Kris,” he whines, threading his fingers into the hand on his hip.

He only snuggles closer, peppering his neck in unintentional kisses as he continues whispering aimlessly and drifting in and out of sleep. “Don’t want breakfast,” he says, “don’t want to get up.” The drowsy yawn after sounds too much like “don’t leave me” for Yixing to actually consider moving anymore.

He stares at Kris’s arm laying over his, their fingers intertwined so naturally and he’s not sure why this feels different from any other time they’ve been in a similar position. It might just be the fact that he’s never been the little spoon before.

Kris sighs deeply behind him, morning breath ghosting over his face and nose, and he decides _yeah, being the little spoon sucks_. At least he aimed away from Kris’s face when he yawned.

When Yixing wakes up again an hour later, his face is against Kris’s chest and his arms are hooked under his arms. Kris’s forearm is draped around his hip, fingers are rubbing lazy circles into the small of his back. There’s a blush running across every point of contact between them, and he silently wonders how much will change along with their intimacy level.

“Good, you’re finally up. What’s for breakfast?”

_Not much, apparently._

Kris maintains the rouse of wanting breakfast for about twenty more minutes, for the sake of saving a bit of their normalcy. Usually when they woke up like that, albeit in opposite positions, he would simply shrug Yixing off and demand his breakfast, ignoring the fact that Yixing was almost always half-hard against his hip. Their normalcy was always intimacy, Kris was just too dense to realize it. He restrains himself long enough for Yixing to fry a few eggs and set them on the table in front of him.

  
“I really need to go grocery shopping today,” Yixing says conversationally, walking back over to the stove to make his plate. He says that almost every weekend and never gets around to it until Monday. Apparently he’s trying to keep things as ‘normal’ as he can, too.

  
But they’re not normal, or at least their friendship sure isn’t, Kris can see that now. When he doesn’t immediately dig into his food, Yixing stares at him from the kitchen island, standing in the spot he usually does as he scarfs down his breakfast and reads the paper on weekdays.

  
“What’s wrong?”

  
“Do you love me?” Kris asks blatantly.

  
Yixing chokes on his own spit.

  
Kris rises, abandoning his plate and striding over to stand behind Yixing. He rest his head on his shoulder, wrapping his arms around his stiff body. “I love you…I love you a lot,” he says, nuzzling into Yixing’s neck.

  
“I…” he starts, still frozen except for a quivering lip, “where is all this coming from?”

  
“Do you love me?” Kris repeats against his ear.

  
“…y-yeah. I mean yes, of course,” he mutters. Yixing manages to spin around and face Kris despite his tight grip on his midsection. His hands end up settling on his shoulder blades again as he hooks his arms under Kris’s armpits. He’s staring down at him, signature scowl on his face indicating that he’s thinking very hard about what he’s about to say. “What is it?” Yixing asks.

  
“I want to kiss you again,” he says. That’s about as close as he’s going to get to asking permission. It’s good enough for Yixing, though, because _let’s get real: Kris’s not going to become some Prince Charming overnight._

  
Yixing laughs shortly and holds his head up. “Then do it.”

He sighs, loosening his grip a bit as he leans down to press his mouth carefully to Yixing’s. It’s softer than the first time, but he becomes just as determined as before when he feels Yixing pressing back. There’s no moment of hesitation, no awkwardness in the silence that falls as they meld together slowly. There is a small fit of giggles when they tilt their heads to the right at the same time, but it only takes a few seconds for their lips to connect again, this time with Yixing wrapping his arms around Kris’s neck and pulling him down.

Yixing thinks of how many times he’s seen Kris kiss someone else, how many times the thought of him replacing that person has crossed his mind. Too many times. There have been times he’s kissed someone and imagined it was Kris; they seemed like silly fantasies back then, when he could pretend he didn’t really want it to happen. He thinks of how jealous he truly was, how he’d sit home alone, waiting around like a good little trophy wife, wondering what Kris wanted with all those other people when he had him. He was in complete denial, pretending he didn’t care for Kris that way, all while he constantly transferred his feelings onto others. He realizes now why none of his relationships lasted very long, if he could really call them that. The closest thing he’s had to a boyfriend in years was Jongin, and it was kind of a relief to Yixing when he met Yura and dropped him like a hot potato. Then there was that _thing_ with Tao they both agreed to keep a secret (he still doesn’t know that Kris was aware of that little fling from the moment it started, and was cold towards Tao for that very reason). Those relationships never manifested themselves into anything more than physical, because he was already too emotionally attached to a guy he felt was too good for him. He wonders if Kris’s situation was the same, if he was just unlucky in love or if he pushed people away because he felt something for Yixing. Maybe he was just as immersed in denial as Yixing was, maybe he…he…

Maybe he’s currently sucking a bruise into Yixing’s neck and just made him lose track of his thoughts. Yixing doesn’t even remember being hoisted onto the countertop or how his hands ended up down the back of Kris’s sweatpants. Wow, he really should be paying attention right now. The large palms squeezing at his parted thighs are burying indents into his flesh that would probably hurt if he wasn’t concentrating so hard on Kris’ lips on his neck.

Kris nips at one of the red marks blotched on Yixing’s skin, hard enough to make Yixing yelp, and the noise makes him aware of how aggressive he had gotten in the last few minutes. He pulls away to compose himself, but seeing how flushed and vulnerable Yixing looked sitting in front of him did not help at all.

“Kris,” Yixing whines, sliding his hands to the small of Kris’s back. He’s still a few centimeters taller than him, even while perched on the counter, so when he pulls Kris back and wraps his legs around his hips, Kris feels him grind down hard against his groin. He groans at the friction, scratching lightly down Yixing’s thighs as he hears him moan out a weak and wanton “please…”

Kris isn’t the kind of guy that needs much encouragement, especially when he’d been hard from the moment they woke up. He does look for conformation at every action, though, even after Yixing lets him carry him into his room and strip him completely. His usual dominance subsides a bit as he familiarizes himself to Yixing’s body, hammering every freckle and scar into his memory, many of which he’s been aware of for a while.

  
He thinks of the times he’d come to watch Yixing to rehearse at the academy, how fascinated he thought he was with dancing when he watched him. Turns out he was just fascinated with the way Yixing moved. He thinks of the way Yixing’s muscles would flex and contort as he massages over every bit of visible skin, searching for the thrum of his racing heartbeat in every vein. It gets to the point where he’s torturing himself more than Yixing, testing his restraint and unconsciously giving Yixing time to maybe change his mind or say they’re moving too fast, but he doesn’t. In fact, Yixing’s urgency is fully exposed for once, his actions hurried and needy in response to Kris’s tenderness.

“Fuck, would you cut it out? I’m not a virgin, you know, you don’t have to be so gentle,” he rasps as Kris takes his sweet time prepping him. He had never seen Yixing in such an intimate light before, and he was enjoying his frustration so much that he almost forgot how painful his erection was now.

“Well excuse me for trying to be romantic,” he snaps back, adding a third finger and curling them against his prostate. He continues working him open slowly on purpose, just to hear Yixing curse some more as he squirms under him.

“I’ve been romanced enough, dammit, just - ” Yixing groans loudly when he removes his fingers and reaches into the bedside table drawer for a condom. Kris’s not sure if it’s from the lost of contact or relief, but he likes it either way. “Just hurry up.”

“So impatient, wow,” Kris scoffs as he coats himself quickly. “It really is always the quiet ones that are the biggest whores.” He laughs at the not-so-gentle kick Yixing administers to his thigh. “Ow! Kidding, I was kidding!”

“Whatever,” Yixing shrugs, hooking the leg back around Kris’s thigh. Kris lays back over him, kissing his shoulder lightly as he lines himself up at Yixing’s entrance. “Hey,” Yixing calls softly, tugging the tufts of hair at the base of his neck so he’ll look up at him. “I…you know you’re a jerk, right?”

Kris smiles down at him, happy that Yixing feels comfortable enough to still be his goofy self in such a serious situation. He knows there’s a silent expectation for everything to change between them after this. This moment is supposed to change everything, but he knows it won’t. “Yes, I know, I’m a giant jerk.”

“Yeah, but...I love you,” Yixing interrupts, and Kris swears he blushes even deeper, if that’s even possible. “I love you a lot. I kind of always have,” he admits.

It comes out of his mouth without a second thought. “I love you, too.”

The first few thrusts are shallow, slow; Kris’s still so concerned about hurting Yixing or coming off too aggressive. As casually as they were going about this, it wasn’t just some random hook up. He still wasn’t sure if this was gonna be a one time thing or not, and he didn’t want to press his luck by treating Yixing the way he treats…well, everyone, really. Or everyone he’s slept with, at least.

But Yixing is persistent in his begging. He’s writhing and moaning, putting on one hell of show beneath him as he swivels & cants his hips back against Kris’s thrusts. He’d be crazy not to oblige. His breath hitches as he buries himself to the hilt in the willing heat, cursing as Yixing’s back arches off the bed and he feels him clinch tight around his dick.

“Holy shit,” he groans, clawing at Yixing’s hips a little harder than he meant to. There’s an almost painful sounding growl that escapes from Yixing’s mouth as his legs shudder violently. Kris stares in wonder, pulling out slowly and thrusting back in at a different angle as he scratches down Yixing’s hips again.

Yixing nearly screams again, grabbing at Kris’s wrists and pulling his hands away from the angry pink lines now running down his sides.  
Before Kris can apologize, Yixing’s hips rise off the bed again. “Oh my God, move, Kris,” he moans, “fucking move.”

He obeys, pulling out almost completely and slamming back in. Yixing’s body reacts instantly to every thrust, matching his rapid movements as they rock together. Kris slots his fingers with Yixing’s, pinning them on either side of his head and leaning down to connect their mouths and swallow his moans as they multiple in decibels. Yixing bites down hard on Kris’s lips, switching between barking orders of _harder_ & _faster_ and whimpering _I love you_s & _don’t stop_s. Eventually Kris opts out of kissing and presses his face into Yixing’s neck as his strokes begin to fall out of rhythm and he pants like a wild dog, losing himself in the sounds ripping from Yixing’s throat as he pistons forward.

  
Yixing comes first, the friction of Kris moving flush against him and rubbing his cock raw until he’s painting their stomachs white and shaking uncontrollably. Kris comes soon after, biting down on Yixing’s shoulder as he spills into the condom and clings to the younger as if he’s afraid to let go.

The room falls silent as their breathing evens out. Kris pulls the only sheet they didn’t kick off the bed over them, ignoring the sticky mess between their torsos as they tangled their tired limbs together. Yixing cradles Kris’s face in his hands, wiping the sweat from his cheeks and smiling ear to ear. Kris takes a less affectionate approach, as always, ruffling Yixing’s damp hair into even more of a mess.

Their house phone sounds loudly from the kitchen, and Kris pulls Yixing back against him when he seems to move to the edge of the bed.

“Ignore it,” he says flatly.

“But what if it’s - “

“Don’t care.” He tightens his fingers around his arm. “It’s not important.”  
Yixing shrugs, moving back into the curve of Kris’s body, covering his collarbones in lazy kisses and settling back into the soiled sheets.

** _BEEEEEEP._ **

** _“Hey, it’s Yixing! Leave a message - oh, and if you’re calling for that loser I live with, don’t bother!”_ **

  
**_“What?! Oh, screw you, no one calls for you anyway!”_**

** _“Okay, leave a message for Kris if you must, just know he won’t return your call. Byeee~”_ **

** _BEEEEEEP._ **

_“Xing-hyungggg~ where are you? We were supposed to have lunch an hour ago,” _Sehun whines on the other line. There’s an angry, muffled voice in the background that could only be Baekhyun, and a struggle over the receiver commences before the speaker changes.

_“Hey, asshole, next time you decide to ditch us at least have the decency to pick up the damn phone when we call! I swear Kris is starting to rub off on you…”_


End file.
